


'Tis the Season

by SqueeG1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-22
Updated: 2007-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueeG1/pseuds/SqueeG1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of an evening. SJ. Written for Shipmas 2007 on Gateworld.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis the Season

**Author's Note:**

> Season: Season 9  
> Pairing: Sam/Jack 
> 
> Unbeta’d, but I do want to thank my beta Melissa for all of her previous hard work. I hope that real life calms down sometime soon and that you and yours have a wonderful holiday season and a fantastic New Year.  
> 

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter padded into the open concept main room illuminated by the light in the front hall where she had just kicked off her uncomfortable, high-heeled shoes.  The carpeting under her feet felt both irritating and soothing which, she mused to herself, was odd.

She realized belatedly that she hadn’t taken off her coat, so she slipped it off and draped it over one of the high-backed barstools, tossing her keys onto the adjacent kitchen counter, before walking across to the living room and sinking with a relieved sigh into the comfort of the couch.  She propped her feet up on the coffee table and sighed again, glad to be home.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like parties.  She just liked them to be… smaller.  With more people she knew.  And liked.  Usually she could put on her dress blues, social camouflage, to keep a buffer between herself and the strangers she would inevitably be introduced to, left to make small talk and chit-chat until she could charm her way out of the conversation, just to be sucked into another cluster of people.  Sam found it physically and emotionally draining.

This holiday season it had been one formal party after another.  Her black, high-heeled (uncomfortable) shoes had seen more action in the last month than they had for the past several years.  Sam had even gone out to buy a couple new party dresses, all in black – a different kind of social camouflage.  Sam glanced down her body to take in her most recent purchase and mentally shrugged.  The dress was cut fairly modestly, not form fitting but it fell nicely on Sam’s figure, a bit of a flare just below the knees, with some black sequins and beads adding a bit of low-key sparkle and the pattern was matched on a small shrug made of a sheer material and therefore completely useless for any kind of warmth.  Sam snuggled deeper into the couch as she shivered.  The party had been held in a large room and even with all of the people adding body heat to the space, it had been cool.

Sam was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening and closing quietly and the soft clink of keys being set down on the small table by the door.  She smiled at the sigh, either real or imagined, that would have been issued when the shoes were kicked off.  Sam glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that she had already been home for an hour.  She hadn’t thought she was tipsy, but the alcohol Sam had consumed at the party had been enough to warrant a taxi home and had apparently put her into that low-level haze where time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.  Time being relative to the number of beverages consumed.

Sam’s gaze moved from the clock to the man shadowing the light from the doorway.  Jack O’Neill was leaning against the doorjamb smirking at her and Sam grinned at him before letting her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes, glad he was home.  Social obligation had required Jack to stay until the end of the party.

Sam heard Jack move across the room and then felt him sink down on the couch beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders to pull her close and his feet brushing against hers as they joined hers on the coffee table.  Sam snuggled into Jack’s side and rolled her head from the couch onto his shoulder.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while until Jack said quietly, “You okay?”

Sam breathed in deeply through her nose, taking in the scent of Jack and his slightly spicy cologne, before replying.

“Yeah.  Just tired combined with one wine too many, I think.  I am so glad that’s the last party we have to go to.”

Sam felt Jack nod his agreement before he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Me too.”

“Oh well.  ‘Tis the season…”

The pair sat slumped on the couch, almost dozing, until Jack spoke again.

“So, why were you avoiding the centre of the room for half the night?”, he questioned and Sam could practically hear the grin in his voice.  He had noticed.  Of _course_ he had noticed.

“It’s silly.”

“Mmhm.  Tell me anyway.”

Sam forced her eyes to open and couldn’t help grinning back when her gaze met Jack’s before she ruefully admitted, “I calculated the speed at which and area that would be affected if the chains on that honkin’ chandelier all broke at the same time and the thing fell.”

Sam felt and heard the chuckle rumble through Jack’s chest and elbowed him gently in the ribs and then pretended she was going to try to move away from him.  Jack tightening his grip on her shoulder and shifted more of his body weight onto her, the two of them playfully struggling half-heartedly on the couch.  When Sam relaxed against him, physically conceding defeat, Jack kissed her head again and asked another question.

“What if the chains hadn’t all broken at the same time?”

He really did know her far to well, Sam thought to herself before answering aloud, “Well, obviously then the area would be different, but I thought it would look silly if I only walked around the edge of the room all night.  So I figured that if only one or two of the chains snapped first then I would have time to get out of the danger zone before the final one snapped.  Are you finished teasing me now, General O’Neill?”

“Well, I suppose I do have you at a disadvantage, Lieutenant Colonel, considering you’re drunk,”  Jack replied, squeezing her shoulder affectionately, and then quickly continued before Sam could protest, “Do you want to know what I thought about all evening?”

“I guess it wasn’t chandeliers,”  Sam replied with a laugh.

“Nope.  I was thinking about just how much I wanted to maul you in that new dress of yours.”  This time when Sam glanced up at him, Jack’s eyes were looking down the cleavage revealed by her dress.  She elbowed him again and then waggled her wedding ring in front of his eyes, the gold band flashing in the light falling across them from the hallway.

“You’re allowed to maul me now, you know.  Even the President said so.”

The smile on Sam’s face fell when Jack’s now serious eyes met hers.  He captured her fingers with his and squeezed tightly.  Sam brow furrowed and she uneasily questioned, “Jack?”

Jack’s fingers tightened on hers again as he stated firmly, “Not there.  I don’t want any of those DC political shills knowing how important you are to me.  I don’t want to put you in danger if they think they can use you to get to me.”

“Jack…” Sam began, before Jack shook his head.  He didn’t want to discuss it.  Not tonight.  He kissed the palm of her hand and was relieved when Sam nodded slightly, letting the matter drop.  His gaze lightened again and he glanced again down the front of Sam’s dress hearing Sam’s huff of amusement before her free hand pushed up his chin.  Jack kissed Sam’s palm again and then unwound himself from her and got to his feet, reaching down to help pull Sam to hers.  Their lips met and they kissed deeply for several minutes before breaking apart, foreheads resting against each other.  Suddenly Sam was caught off guard by a huge yawn.  Covering her mouth with the back of one hand she felt Jack pull against the other.

“Let’s get you to bed, Mrs. O’Neill,” Jack said as he moved around the room in a semi-circle, switching off the hall light before heading towards the bedroom.

“You’ll get no complaints from me, Mr. O’Neill,” Sam replied as she followed in his wake and then laughed as she heard Jack yawn loudly, just to yawn again herself as Jack chuckled at her.

“Maybe the mauling should wait until the morning.  You might be too tired,” Jack said half serious, half joking, pretending to be devastated by the thought by pouting like a child.

“Perhaps,” Sam replied casually before slipping off the shrug, knowing that Jack’s eyes would be darkening with desire at the pale flesh revealed, even if she couldn’t see them in the dim light from the bedroom window.  “Or perhaps not.  Help me out of my dress, Jack.”

She knew she wouldn’t have to ask him twice.


End file.
